


Inevitable

by Britpacker



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-24
Updated: 2012-07-24
Packaged: 2018-08-15 17:08:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8064955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Britpacker/pseuds/Britpacker
Summary: Even after the Xindi attack there are still two certainties in life.  AU, 3.08 “Twilight” universe.





	1. Part One: Promotion

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Kylie Lee, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Warp 5 Complex](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Warp_5_Complex), the software of which ceased to be maintained and created a security hazard. To make future maintenance and archive growth easier, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but I may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Warp 5 Complex collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Warp5Complex).
> 
>  **Author's notes:** Well, I'm taking the plunge; a fic without a happy-ever-after. Of course it's the "Twilight" universe, so comes with a built-in reset button.  
>  Unbeta'd and done for (kind of) fun!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two Starfleet officers face a change.

Malcolm

I'm stunned, although Lord knows I shouldn't be. With so few trained officers for the tiny squadron of broken-down rust-buckets we have left, I knew it was coming as soon as I heard about Ramirez. It shouldn't feel like my stomach's just dropped through the soles of my boots; like dropping into zero-G for a nanosecond. Pull yourself together, Reed. There have been two possibilities since the day Earth went bang and this, bleak as it seems, isn't the worst of them.

 _He_ doesn't look like he agrees. His eyes - marked with time and worry, set deep and edged with the bruises of ingrained exhaustion, no longer the sunlit ocean hue of better days - are downcast. He's biting his lip, determined not to break before our subordinates; as if they don't know this is tearing us both apart. "Join me in the ready room, Commander?"

"Aye, Sir."

Hoshi sniffs. Travis daren't look. Yes, they know.

Just as well: he barely waits for the door to close before grabbing me, crushing me against his chest as if he wants to force me through into his heart. As if I don't know I'm already there. "I've always dreaded this, Malcolm."

"So have I, love." Command doesn;t sit well with him; never did. Only the direst emergency would have made him accept it. Archer's illness, Earth's destruction, T'Pol's desertion... Three crises in a row. It's a miracle he endured them at all, coming out hardened, scarred, yet still somehow... beautiful.

I've never been so tempted to rip any non-Xindi's head off as I was that selfish bloody Vulcan's the day she gave up her commission to nurse Archer. I ought to appreciate her devotion; Heaven knows I'd do the same and more for _my_ captain. But she hurt him; changed my sweet, guileless Trip into this haggard, grey-streaked officer old before his time.

Which of us is the same person as before the world ended? How could any of us go through that fire and emerge undamaged? 

Deep breath, Reed. Pull back and touch that tight jaw; I can't help but smile to feel the stubble there. "It was inevitable I'd be given my own ship before long; if more convoys had made it out this far it would've probably happened sooner. There are so few Starfleet vessels left flying."

"I know, babe." I hate the ridiculous affectation, but it's so _him_ I've learned to accept it. "Intrepid couldn't get a better captain. It's just..."

"I'll never be far away." Never mind T'Pol; right now I'd dismember every last Xindi - male, female, even infant - for the damage they've done this dear, gentle man. "We're the two strongest ships left; we'll patrol together. Dinner in my mess, first night I'm aboard?"

In spite of everything that wins me a playful double-take. "You lookin' to cause _comment_ , Cap'n?" he breathes against my hair, and for an instant there's the man I fell in love with lifetimes ago shining from his eyes. Twelve years we've clung to each other, somehow surviving the impossible for moments like this. 

"There are six thousand of us left. Do you think the other five thousand, nine hundred and ninety eight don't know about us?" It hurts: the last remnants of the human race reduced to a village community, gossiping over hastily-constructed fences of corrugated steel. But it's the truth, and we've been through Hell too many times to shy from it.

The rump of our Earthly authority is not going to steal the last small connection with all that was good in what we once were. Without the rare moments of bliss, fighting _the good fight_ against increasing odds would be impossible. Even with them, I sometimes wonder why we keep trying.

I look at my captain - my lover - and I know. Because some things, still, are just too precious to let go. 

I drag him down for a kiss and despite the looming shadow of another assault, even bigger than the last, suddenly everything's right. This was inevitable from the day I first saw him. Us. Together. Against the universe.

We've lost everything else. I'll be damned if I'll lose him as well.

Trip

I knew it was coming. The moment I heard about Ramirez my Starfleet self assigned Commander Malcolm Reed to Intrepid's big chair. He deserves it. The colony needs it.

I still felt like I'd been punched in the gut when the message came through. Telling myself it could be worse, that he isn't going tonight, that we've got another couple of weeks, doesn't help. I have to part with the only thing that makes _going on_ possible. I've got to run Enterprise without Mal beside me.

He feels so right in my arms. Holding him takes me back to a better world, when the right man was captain: before Johnny lost his memories and T'Pol lost her heart; when we still had a planet we loved and a whole fleet of starships around us to defend it. It's only Malcolm that makes me _Trip_ now. Only him being near that makes life something I want to live.

Those lines around the corners of his eyes; when did they get so deep? And the beard - seems like it's been part of him forever, like that pernickety, spick-and-span young man who pulled out his shaver with our oxygen running out aboard a stranded shuttle never existed. It's hard to remember the way it felt the first time, when I laid my lips against his clean-shaven chin.

 _That_ was in desperation: grief and anger clashing inside of us, the horror and fear throwing us into the one thing that could make us feel again. It wasn't sex; it was one-on-one war with the cuts and bruises and bite marks to prove it. 

I don't even know how it happened; what sent us from staring with empty eyes across the turbolift to rolling around my cabin clawing each other like a pair of crazed wildcats. Pain, pleasure, rage, the overwhelming guilt that we hadn't been the heroes Earth needed... it's all a blur now, right up to the moment I felt him start to shake with sobs against my chest and it tipped me over the edge.

We clung together the whole first night after Earth disintegrated. And when we dragged ourselves up to face a duty we didn't want anymore we looked at each other and swore: never again in anger. Only in love.

It's not been an easy promise to keep. Fighting to gather our convoy, fighting to keep it together, snapping back against the enemy and coming away bloodied but somehow still here... Just when we think things can't get worse, the Xindi hit us with another sucker punch. We've been barely holding on for twelve years. We're all changed; coarsened.

My Malcolm? He's still beautiful.

How will I sleep without him in my arms? How will I command without his steady presence at my shoulder? 

It was inevitable. But I still want to kick and scream against Fate. 

It's killing him to be brave for me. Those changeable eyes that used to dance with his moods can look so hard now, eternally wary, but sometimes I still see the gleam of _Lieutenant Reed_ in their steel depths. I'm trembling; he can feel it and strong arms tighten their grip while he rocks me like a child, his breath hot and damp against my cheek. "Nothing will really take me away from you, Trip Tucker. No matter whether we're patrolling different sectors you're part of me, body and soul, and nothing can change that. And I'm part of you."

Dammit, I'm Captain of Enterprise! I can't tear up at a few soft words.

I can. Deaths don't do this to me - seen to many, lost too much - but Malcolm's intense declarations of love, rare as they are, set me off every time. "The best part, darlin'. The biggie's comin'."

"I'm surprised it's been delayed so long." He's not afraid. Whatever horror we've faced through the years, I've never seen Malcolm show a trace of fear. "When does Phlox get here?"

"Soon." He still misses that nosey Denobulan. So do I. It'll be comforting to have him back, even if he's still just fumbling in the dark, trying to find a cure for Johnny.

It'll be another reminder of how things used to be.

Malcolm stretches up again; kisses the end of my nose then gives it a quick tug, that faint, ironic smirk just pulling one corner of his mouth. "Hope he's not planning to stay long," he growls as he steps away; the battle-ready officer again. "No reason for him to get caught up in - all of this."

It's coming. He knows. 

I just don't know if I can face it without him there beside me.


	2. Part One: Promotion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Facing Eternity, together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There was a definite T'Pol/Archer frisson in the ep, wasn't there? And to cheer myself up after this, I'm going to have to descend to the level of smutfest... you have been warned!!!

Trip

Damn, I wish Phlox weren't here.

I wish Johnny and T'Pol were down on the planet. Not because they'd be any safer: once Enterprise is gone, and Intrepid and the rest, they'll incinerate the last human colony just like they did our home world. Just because they're all going to die on my watch. My ship. 

If there's such a thing as an afterlife, Johnny's gonna kick my ass all the way around it for not buying enough time for whatever miracle the Doc was trying to pull off.

That's if he can catch me while I'm busy doing it to myself.

Deep down, I allowed myself to hope. Guess that optimistic soul Malcolm remembers is still buried somewhere under all theat scar tissue 'round my heart after all. He'd like that, but I don't have time for sweet nothings as the Xindi fleet close in.

I've not got time to turn and look at him, intent and focussed as he leans over his console, hitting the right buttons on instinct. But I do it anyway.

He hasn't got time to glance up and give me that cute little half-smile - the one I still see so clear, despite the bush of bristles around it - but he does. 

And in the middle of a fight to the death - most likely mine - I still have time to melt inside at what it means.

He loves me. He's here. I'm not - I've never been - alone.

"Captain!"

Sonofabitch. Even after twelve years I still look for someone else when I hear that word. The Xindi are massing. Intrepid's down, white-hot trails of drive plasma like comet-tails erupting from her nacelles. Malcolm's ship.

No. That's Enterprise. Our home.

This is it. Even we can't get out of this, and you know what? It doesn't matter. A huge Reptilian vessel's coming right at us, hull plating's depolarised and the hull itself's beginning to crumple like it's made of wet paper. Time's slowing down; I can hear my heartbeat - fuck, I can even hear the whisper of eyelashes against my cheek as I blink. 

I turn to him and there it is: his hand outstretched, those long, graceful fingers splayed to wrap around mine. 

I don't know if folks are staring, and I don't care if anyone disapproves. Captain Tucker's no use any more. There's only Trip.

Malcolm's smile is so calm; welcoming. Our calluses scratch, pressing together one last time. His eyes, so stormy, always shifting between grey and blue, are steady now. There's no fear, no anger, no regret. Like he's happy.

Weirdly enough, so am I. This is the way it was meant to be. And if there's something on the other side, I know he's gonna be right there, holding my hand while I explore it.

Me and Malcolm, together. Yeah. That was inevitable from the day I first saw him.

Malcolm

It doesn't need a Tactical Officer to calculate our chances this time. _Slim_ has been our best bet in the last half-dozen encounters. It's now gone down to _none_.

I thought I might feel something when Intrepid went down; my ship, in name if nothing else. I expected I'd be angry, still railing against the Fates when the Reptilian vessel loomed alongside with all guns blazing. How dare these bastards hurt my friends?

I suppose the truth is: they can't hurt any of us any more. What's death compared with seeing one's whole world reduced to tiny particles of ash? Our lives ended that day; every one since has been a struggle just to cling on. Without him, I would have given up. 

Without him, we all would.

He's frowning. I know, even though his back's turned, his eyes on the viewscreen. There's something about the set of his shoulders when he's scowling; something different about the position of the feet, as if he's daring the enemy to knock him down. Even now he's sturdy as the ancient oak in Gran's garden, the one my allergies never allowed me to climb in. They might take his last breath but the Xindi will never rob Charles Tucker III of his pride.

God, I'm proud of him!

If only Phlox weren't here. They have no quarrel with the Denobulans. 

Or the Vulcans, but T'Pol set herself up for this the day she chose to stay. I suppose she'll take the same comfort I do in dying at her beloved's side. 

Enterprise shakes to her core; sparks fly from fried consoles and Hoshi screams as she's tossed out of her chair. The stink of a dying ship fills my nostrils; acrid smoke, sickly-sweet plasma residue that's going to explode into a white-hot fireball any minute. Isn't my whole life supposed to flash before my eyes?

It doesn't need to. He's turning toward me, away from the monster on the screen, and my hand's stretching out before the old-school officer in me can stop it. We're about to die, but he's smiling.

So am I. His hand presses against mine, the palm leathery, fingers broad and strong. Grief twists my guts that they'll never caress me again, but it's gone so fast I barely notice it. He's with me now, all the love that giant heart can still carry bright in his drownable eyes. My Trip. If I'd never had him, my life would have been as meaningless as, in the end, my death's about to be. At least I've had twelve years knowing the unimaginable joy of being really loved.

Enterprise shudders; her spine's broken and deep in her bowels I hear the first bass rumble of an impending explosion. His hand tightens on mine. 

"Love you."

Greenish light washes over us; it's getting hotter. This is it.

I always knew it would end this way, his hand in mine, our eyes locked. Nothing else matters now, if it ever even did. Trip and I, together to the last breath.

Thank whatever gods there are, it was inevitable.


End file.
